


He Rose from the River

by Anoriath



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Sex, and apparently fruit metaphors, artful allusions to sex, the author has a thing for running water and sunlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoriath/pseuds/Anoriath
Summary: A little something written a few months back that I had forgotten about.  I didn't have any particular characters in mind, but it is firmly in Tolkien's universe.  One partner is clearly labeled male, the other... well, open to whatever appeals.For the prompt: sunlight, quiver, bowl, luscious.
Kudos: 1





	He Rose from the River

Here where the sunlight plays amidst the leaves that flicker overhead, he eased me to a bed of grass and ferns and followed, his weight pressed upon me.

I had thought, mayhap, to join him in the river.

In the heat of summer in which the sun lay upon me with a heavy hand, I thought I longed for naught more than the slip of water against skin and the cool green silence of the beat of my own heart and the dim roar of water as it plunged from the fall of rock. But it was not to be. For he forbade it. He rose from the river as were he the Vala of the waters, the sun catching upon sinew and limbs, and strode against the current toward me.

Here, where his lips were soft and their slip sweeter than the ripest and most luscious of the fruits of summer, I learned I was mistaken. For his hair, warmed by the sun, smelled of the water in which he had bathed and the sinews of back and shoulder moved beneath skin on which the river yet clung.

Here upon its high banks, with the call of birds distant upon the far shore and rush of the current about us, he pulled at ties and pushed away linen that clung to sweat, his tongue following so he might taste the salt upon my skin. Here, he made of my navel a bowl from which to sip of the water that slipped o’er shoulder and breast to collect there. Hungry teeth nipped. His mouth tugged at skin upon my hip and thighs until they quivered. A feast he made of me. And there I learned of my longing anew.


End file.
